The Hunger Games
by PancakesAndSunshine
Summary: "She woke up to blinding pain. Searing, overwhelming, indescribable pain..." When Emily is captured by a sadistic UnSub, can the team get her back? FULL SUMMARY INSIDE. R&R!


**Author's Note: Hey guys! Here comes yet ANOTHER Prentiss fic! This is not a ship fic, but it will involve some Morgan/Garcia flirty banter, because, you know. Everything does. Also, Emily will be spending an unnatural amount of time with a fifteen year old boy, but that's nothing. Or… Is it? The story does kind of mimic The Hunger Games, and I'm saying that openly. This is PURELY FICTION. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Summary: Prentiss is kidnapped by who could possibly be the most prolific serial killer the BAU team has faced. Tracing patterns from his first kill to his last, the team discovers that the criminal is creating a miniature battle of wits and strength. As shocking as that sounds, the clock is ticking, and they have to get to Prentiss before it's too late. The question is: Can they?**

**-Garden City, Roanoke, Virginia-**

She woke up to blinding pain. Searing, overwhelming, indescribable pain. It seemed to resonate from her legs.

No… that couldn't be right. Her abdomen? Her arms? Her back?

But no.

It was rippling from every single spot on her body. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking, and she was sweating like she would never sweat again.

_Where am I? _was her first question.

_Why don't I remember any of this? _was her second. She craned her neck to see where she was and made a mental note of it.

_It's dark. Seems like it's room temperature, so that means I'm not outside. Or am I? No, I'm not. I'd be able to smell the trees, and I would be able to hear crickets and other wildlife. What's this? A wall. I'm definitely inside. It's cushioned, from what I can feel. The floor is… Carpet? No, it rounds off over here… I'm lying on a rug. There's something under my head. Soft, smooth, and cold. A pillow. And there's something covering me. Must be a blanket. I'm fully clothed, which is a good sign. I'm just sore. In pain, everywhere. What the hell is going on?_

A soft groan from the corner of the room broke her concentration.

"Who's there?" Emily asked cautiously.

"It's just me. Good thing you're awake," a young male's voice came from his spot.

"Who are you? I'm a federal agent," she warned, willing her voice not to crack.

"Relax. I'm not the guy you're looking for. I'm a victim, just like you," he whispered. She tried to detect any arrogance or anything in his voice that could lead him to be the suspect, but she came up with nothing.

"Where are we?" she whispered back. She heard what sounded like a shrug; his shirt rubbing against the wall.

"I don't know any more than you do," he replied.

"What's your name?" she asked softly.

"Dominic Barfield. But you can call me Dom," he forced out.

"How old are you, Dom?"

"Fifteen."

"How long have you been here?"

"Same as you. About a day and a half. We all have."

"We?"

"Let me help you up," he proceeded to fumble around in the darkness and tried to prop Emily up against the soft wall.

"You good?" he checked.

"I'm good," she nodded with a sigh. Immediately, she felt an emptiness at her side.

"Shit," she muttered.

"What's wrong?" Dominic asked, the concern evident in his voice.

"Whoever did this… They took my gun," she said dejectedly.

"Don't worry. Here," he held out what felt like a pocketknife. He then clicked on a flashlight, revealing at least four other prone bodies.

Emily gasped.

"Oh my God. W-what? Are they all dead?" she managed, nearly frozen with shock.

"Nah, they're either just knocked out, or sleeping. Either one. But nobody's dead. I mean, no one in the room. People did die, though. Yesterday, I mean. The, uh, the guy who did this… He made us fight," he explained. "Do you remember?" Emily recognized this tone of voice. It was something like hers during a cognitive interview with a young or mentally scarred victim. She cleared her mind, trying to pull back the memories of the last twenty four hours.

She vaguely remembered fist-fighting a larger woman, and being battered by a gigantic man, but that was all.

Suddenly, she remembered being sliced in the neck with some sort of… No, it couldn't have been a spear. What was it? She couldn't remember.

A pain made itself known on her neck; the exact spot she was cut.

"Ah…" she gasped, the pain becoming unbearable. She tried to forget it, but it wasn't working. "What's going on?"

"Hang on," Dominic said slowly. He got up, retrieved something from what Emily made out to be a knapsack of some sort, and returned.

He unscrewed the cap of a slim bottle and tilted the container. Milky-white liquid flowed into his palm, and he rubbed his hands together. He nudged Emily's hair away from the spot on her neck with the back of his hand, then massaged in the lotion-y substance.

It left a stinging sensation in her neck, but immediately made it feel better.

"Where did you get this stuff? Are you sure you're a victim?" she asked warily, the medicine beginning to make her feel woozy. Dominic chuckled.

"He gave each of us a little bag with stuff in it. I just happened to have the medicine," he explained.

"Okay… I see. Can you tell me what's going on here? As you can probably see, I don't remember much," she admitted, leaning her head back on the wall.

"The medicine's setting in. Here, let me move you to your mat," he offered, holding out his hand. Emily took it gratefully, a bit embarrassed that an FBI agent was getting help from a fifteen-year-old boy. He pulled her gently towards her spot on the floor and brushed her hair away from the back of her neck. He laid her head down as softly as he could down on her pillow, making sure to be careful with her neck.

"Wh-what's going on?" she repeated, determined to find an answer.

"Like I said, the medicine's taking effect. I'll explain after you wake up later. It's about nine thirty at night, so try to get some sleep. I'll make sure you understand everything later, okay?" he promised. Her eyelids became heavier and heavier, until they finally shut. The last thing she saw before slipping again into complete darkness was Dominic pulling the blanket over her shoulders.

**-FBI Building, Quantico, Virginia-**

"Has Em gotten in touch with you lately?" JJ pulled Morgan aside in the break room. He shook his head with a frown.

"Uh, no. Isn't she at one of Ambassador Prentiss's assemblies down in Roanoke?" Morgan remembered. JJ nodded, her head beginning to pound.

"She told me she'd call when she got to the hotel. It doesn't take two days to get to Roanoke," JJ said, beginning to become suspicious. Morgan noticed the look in her eye.

"Look, JJ, Princess will be fine. I promise. She probably just lost her phone. You know she misplaces that thing all the time," he reassured her with a nervous chuckle. JJ raked her hands through her hair and shook her head.

"Yeah, you're right, I'm just overreacting," she smiled apologetically. The two walked out of the room to find Hotch's sullen face looking back at them.

"What's goin' on, Hotch?" Morgan frowned. Hotch shook his head.

"Emily hasn't gotten in touch with us, and her mother called saying she hasn't shown up at the hotel. Have you guys gotten any word?" he asked hopefully. Just as they were about to answer, Reid showed up behind Hotch.

"What's going on, guys?" he asked. His face was coated with nervousness and worry. JJ rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

"We, uh, we just haven't heard from Emily, and she didn't show up at the hotel. But, uh, you know her, right?" JJ let out a stiff chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. A sigh came from behind Reid, revealing Rossi standing behind him.

"I haven't heard a thing from Prentiss, either," he confirmed with an unsettled look on his face.

"This isn't a good sign. I'll try her again," JJ sighed, exiting the room. The men stood in a circle, thoughts racing through their minds.

"Sh-she'll be okay, right?" Reid asked quietly. Morgan met his eyes.

"She'll be okay," he reassured the young man. Tears were welling up in his eyes, but he had to keep composure. After all, Emily could've just gotten lost, or lost her phone. She wasn't… She couldn't be. Could she?

**-The Arena, Roanoke, Virginia-**

Emily woke up to her still-searing pain, but it seemed to have lessened throughout the night. She rolled over on her side, the pain now receding. She turned to see Dominic's sullen face staring back at her.

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked, concerned over the bags under his eyes.

"A couple hours, but I wanted to make sure everyone got enough medicine and food," he explained.

"Dom, that was very brave of you," she told him, looking into his eyes. He held her gaze for a few moments more, but dropped it as her intense eyes drilled into him.

"Thanks, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right?" he let out a small laugh. She nodded.

"Is everyone still alive?"

"Yeah, some of them are awake over there. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. That medicine really helped the pain go away. Thanks, Dom," Emily smiled sincerely.

"Of course."

"Anyway, could you please tell me why the hell we're here?"

Dom chuckled.

"Of course. So, anyway, this guy who did this… There's actually four more of them. They've put together this sort of army, see, of about five people. They, uh, they've kidnapped people before, and they killed them. So, these guys set us loose in the woods, and-"

Emily cut him off. "Loose in the woods? They know we can escape, right?"

"Did I mention _deep_ in the woods?" Dominic corrected himself. "Anyway, the leader, Seth, is the head of the little army I was talking about. It was originally him and this guy named Drake, but Drake was killed by one of the survivors. Anyway, he's been gathering the strongest of the survivors because he's trying to start a 'rebellion', quote-un-quote. So far, we've survived until the last round, which is starting tomorrow. It's a shame you can't remember any of it, really."

Emily's heart was pounding. What was all this, and why couldn't she remember?

"Well, bits and pieces of it are coming back, I guess. I mean, not everything, but I'm beginning to remember more and more," she convinced him.

"That's good. He announced some stuff while you were sleeping. Like, for the last round of the game, you have to survive for a week and three days without dying of natural causes or getting killed by his cronies," Dominic explained. Emily shoved down the lump in her throat.

"Wonderful," she managed sarcastically. Dominic nodded sadly.

"You seem to know a lot about this," Emily said out loud.

"I know. I was, uh, I was one of them, actually. Drake was actually my brother. After he died, I did some… stuff… and it was bad enough to get Zachariah- Seth's new right-hand man- to kick me out of the group," Dominic told her, his voice filled with depression.

"Dom… I-I'm so sorry," Emily whispered, rubbing his shoulder. Dominic looked down.

"It's okay. Woah, your cut's oozing," he pointed to her neck. Sure enough, blood and white liquid was beginning to seep out. He rubbed more medicine between his palms and rubbed it in. Her eyes began to close, and again, she fell subject to a long, deep sleep.

**Author's Note: Hey! I hope you enjoyed Chapter One! Please let me know if you want me to continue. I hope you do! Leave a review please…**


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